Harvest Prayer


Lady Goddess of the night,

Fill my room bathed in light.

Heal my body and my mind,

What I seek, I shall find.

Whatever path shall carry me,

Give me clear eyes, that I may see.

To assist in journeys, wondrous place.

To feel light and happiness upon my face.

Goddess help me to be free 

To grow with flower, herb and tree.

Lead me onward to the sun,

Barefoot, grounded as I run.

Help me learn what it is to be, 

So I embrace this bright new me.

Love is stronger than to hate,

Don’t take it lightly or underestimate.

Beauty remains and to behold,

More to us than silver or gold.

Loved by my little family,

We’re stronger with the power of three.

For riches are beyond compare,

By my side my family there.

Blessed by what you’ve given me.

A gift of just being free.

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A burst of creativity 

25/6/17 After a week of feeling exhausted with high levels of pain and very little sleep I was met with an inspired moment. So this weekend’s sudden burst of creativity has come about by this….

A small pot of local flowers from my garden which either looked pretty or smelled nice. I thought I might be able to make some pot pourri to send to my friend in Australia as part of her birthday gift and to remind her of home. I miss her even more since she emigrated. Yes I have lots of wild flowers which have grown in the wrong place (otherwise known as weeds) but they are blooming and some of them smell rather lovely too so I’m not afraid to include them.

Unfortunately I then looked it up and found out that you cannot send plant matter to Australia since they have strict laws. So I thought about making her a wildflower bouquet mixed up with the ones from my garden and photographing it for her. Perhaps I would make it onto a notebook so she can write a journal, or get it printed for her and put in a frame. Who knows but on our evening walk we collected more and since it was a rainstorm by the time we arrived home I had to store them in the fridge overnight and so this was made today. 


It adorned my dining table for the day as I wasn’t sure exactly what to do with it next. Send it with blessings to the wind, or make the pot pourri out of it, it does smell rather nice. In the end I have opted for both. 

I was inspired by an artist named Day Schildkret who on his walks collects things and makes beautiful sculptural earth alters from his foraged finds which he photographs. Known as Impermanent Earth Art You can see his work at http://www.morningalters.com I love his work and am perfectly happy when doing my own foraging for beautiful things.

But it somehow set the ball rolling. Last night I wrote up my poems to the pc from the notebooks of my last trip it boosted my morale again finding out that I have almost reached my quota for my second book selection (a further 100 poems) and it seemed to trigger the writing again, suddenly whizzing around my head. This morning I wrote a poem about my friend who has invited me to her wedding next week. I plan to give it to her for a gift and thought that I need to do something else for them too. I am all for a bit of upcycled giftware and have made her a recycled roof slate chalkboard with the wedding couples initials in a logo and the date of their union. The slates were reclaimed from Scotland. I have a few of them I intended to make up for some friends and family or perhaps sell at a later date.


I hope that they like it. 

I also made one for our home which is personal to us. This has become our catchphrase of late since wherever we are as long as we are together it’s home.

It seems that I have been able to write more poetry this week. Not all of it suited to a book, or here but had to be written nevertheless.

This Once Was Home

I sat in the garden looking at night sky
And thinking about it began to sigh.

I sat there silent it’s fair to mention,

My body ached from all the tension.

Remember that this once was home.

The place where I could be alone. 

Peace and quiet alone with thought, 

Not sitting feeling overwrought. 

With home comforts all around. 

Windows closed would block the sound.

Of the world and people passing by.

Watching as the time would fly.

A quiet haven to rest my head.

The cosy sofa, the comfy bed.

Neighbours with whom a hand I’d lend,

Small garden with plants that I could tend.

But now as I wait for Spring to call

Here I sit trapped in these four walls.

Life as we know it before this began, 

Now altered forever because of one man.

So much has changed I feel locked in,

No escape from the stress and din.

Wanting once more to get out.

Making me want to cry and shout.

The peace is shattered, the calm is too,

I crave to find that something new.

A place where I am at my best,

A home to thrive, a place to rest.

Natures beauty there to please,

Surrounding you will put you at ease.

A personal space to call my own,

Which once again I’ll feel is home.

I’ll keep looking I’ll search with care, 

To find the place that is out there. 

The plans have changed, our dreams have too,

But we’re still in it, it’s me and you.

Wherever we go on this journey of ours, 

We’ll stop a moment to smell the flowers.

Shall plant some new ones on the way, 

Put down some roots, as they say.

Life will be once more safe and secure.

The countryside an obvious lure.

A house, a cottage, a bungalow,

A place for us to thrive and grow.

It’s time to move on, or start to roam

And find this house to call a home. 

Excitement and new challenges await.

Walk down the street and open the gate.

The new life we will soon have begun,

Once there you’ll know you’ve found the one. 

Transport 

I love it when a blog post takes you to a place where you have never been before and just for a brief time you are transported wherever it may be. It is so descriptive that you are there enjoying that moment along with the author. All the sights and sounds that surround them are playing on the senses and your own imagination kicks in. Perhaps you are noticing other things for the first time too. It is what I subconsciously aim for when I write a story. I don’t always feel that I manage it, but when it comes together, Ah success!

I don’t often read books, it is not a luxury I’m often able to afford myself, you see I’ll let you into a secret. They aren’t something I can put down again. I get so wrapped up in them, transported I guess that I am unable to switch off until I have reached the end. On the last two occasions I actually read books it was cover to cover and nothing got done for the day. Thankful for small mercies that I read pretty quickly though. Quite often even then I have considered what might happen next, another chapter. I’ve often considered writing one at the end of a book I’ve particularly enjoyed.  I do the same with a film the concentration is immense. But if anything breaks that for me and I miss a bit then quite often I will walk away mid film and watch it another time, much to the annoyance of my partner.

One such post transported me there is this one Helen Hayward Going Home for Christmas which I read tonight. It got me thinking about the places which have been home over the years, she quoted a friend “Never go back to the place where you were happiest as a child’, a friend once told me. ‘The place you went on holiday to, a garden from childhood, a tree house in the woods. It’s gone, lost’, she said firmly, ‘and you can’t refind it’.”

Revisiting them is not always a good idea. Crossing back to the time before we became grown up, when we looked at everything so differently. First off we often expect it to be the same and it just isn’t the same. Not when you have grown up but still we have a fondness for the familiar don’t we. The inspiration following a memory we once had.

I walked down the high street where I grew up as a teenager and later lived in the town nearby. It has changed so much, I did not recognise it and yet it still somehow brought me comfort in the memories that I hold of the place. We all grow up one day, people and places in an ever changing world.

The Daily Post – Crossing

In Gratitude 

In gratitude I sit

And remind myself of it.

Of all the things I feel.

How it reminds me that I’m real.

That I overcame the fear

And that I’m sitting here.

That I have a comfy bed,

Upon which to lay my head.

And friends to hold my heart,

Even when we are apart.

A family to hold me tight,

When I wake up wracked with fright.

Someone with love to bless,

Wouldn’t want for any less.

Thankful hear my call.

For the Gratitude in all.

We Won’t Panic! It is Done…

What’s she done now? would probably be my Mother’s response to this subject but she already knows the answer.
The other night I gave her the draft of my book The Sentimental Jorney -Poetic Stories Vol 1 to read before I publish it. I had told her some time ago that she could and asked her if she would just check it through for me before I hit the button on it.

I think you are getting the picture with my frustration at what I did next..

Yes I hit the publish button with the wrong date on it. Well nobody is perfect! 

I had my reasons, of course so that there was time to amend it beforehand but I would like for someone to buy the book before Christmas if possible. 

Mum went away promising to let me know when she had read it and give me feedback and since it was late and my partner had not yet arrived  home I thought I would upload the book to Amazon to check the layout I had amended. All good so far it fitted fairly well on tablet view.

Oh No, what have I done?

Suddenly im saving it I go a message which said that I had sent it for preview for pre-order. What shall I do now?  Panic! 

So I began praying that I’d be able to make changes if I need to, (like the date for starters) but more so what kind of idiot decides to publish their first book on New Year’s Eve for goodness sake!   So I was feeling rather foolish. I also   wonder if I have been greedy on the price… Well that didn’t take long did it? For the self doubt to start creeping in.

So this was not the post about publishing that I had hoped for all this time, when 4 months ago I finished writing it and waited for the family to read it.  I wanted to be able to shout out loud. “That’s it at last, it is Done” with some level of pride. I did not expect that I would be silently berrating myself for my carelessness in making this error in timing. I wanted to be happy that I had published when the time came. So a couple of days later I just needed to get my head back to a good place and set the thoughts free before posting this here and edit of course. I was able to change the date after all the panic so I am now actually able to say…

Here is the link in case you would like to buy a copy when it comes out this weekend Saturday 26th November for the kindle and don’t worry if you don’t have one you can download an app for other devices so that you can read it. 

Amazon Link – The Sentimental Journey – Poetic Stories Vol 1 by India Blue

I can’t quite believe that I can now   actually write that. That’s another tick on my list.

Please show me some love and share the link for me and I’d love to know what you think.